


Where to start

by S_V



Series: Sugar, milk and honey [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post Season 15, Slow Burn, as in so slow it's not even romance yet, no beta we die like illiterate men, you can pry the simtroopers having homely shenanigans on their moon from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 10:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18798712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_V/pseuds/S_V
Summary: The thing was, the big guy was incredibly shy - so Donut had deduced, using his amazing Double-O Donut detecting skills. He never even joined them for meals! At best, he would enter the kitchen, take a plate of whatever had been cooked, and then leave again; at worst, he simply didn’t show up.-Or, how Donut manages to be completely unaggressive about aggressively caring, and how Locus is Confused by that.





	Where to start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemi/gifts).



“Locus, why won’t you come in my room?”

Normally, Donut would have lasted longer, he really would. But it just burst out of him! He partially blamed Locus for that - the other man was always sneaking around, cloaking himself even while inside. Which was just rude, really, and something Donut was sure his mothers would have put a stop to, had it happened in _their_ home. But it also meant he was so very hard to get a hold of, being slippery like that. So when he’d stepped into the living room, Donut had just gotten excited and exploded!

Now, said living room got very silent, Grif and Simmons ceasing their bickering to stare; Simmons looking at Donut wildly, the light of his cyborg eye flickering, while Grif was glancing towards Locus, his eyebrows slowly but steadily creeping higher up his forehead. Tucker was very casually lowering the magazine he had been reading, trying and failing to be subtle about it. Even Caboose had gone quiet, though judging from the focussed expression on his face and the way he was pinching his mouth shut, he might be thinking they were playing the silent game. Tucker used that trick on him often enough that Donut could see how he might be getting confused.

And Locus had completely frozen up, his expression hidden behind his helmet.

 _Whoopsie daisy_. Time to rectify the situation, before the big guy gave them all the slip. Already, he had an unfair advantage by being in full armor, while the rest of them were lounging around in their casual clothes. It meant Locus could go invisible, and Donut certainly couldn’t; his outfits were meant to grab attention, not divert it!

“You never join us for Donut’s wine and cheese hour!” he explained, and Caboose waved his arms, pointing at Donut victoriously, “-and it’s tradition, you’re part of Red team now.” Donut continued, deciding to ignore Caboose’s excited flailing. Because really, it was just _sad_ that Locus wasn’t joining them, not even after Sarge had called dibs on him.

The thing was, the big guy was _incredibly_ shy - so Donut had deduced, using his amazing Double-O Donut detecting skills. He never even joined them for meals! At best, he would enter the kitchen, take a plate of whatever had been cooked, and then leave again; at worst, he simply didn’t show up. He certainly never sat down with them, and Donut could just _hear_ his moms worrying if the poor thing was eating properly.

So he’d invited Locus for his wine and cheese hour even before Sarge had decided the ex-merc staying with them was very obviously a Red. This conclusion had come about after an hour long rant of listing evidence, most of which was stating that Locus had never been spotted giving anyone a piggyback ride - which was a universally recognized Blue Activity - and how Locus very obviously bled Red. Then, he had called dibs, and well. No one could dispute the Rule of Dibs, not even Wash and Carolina with their weird Freelancer ideas.

Thing was, Donut had been convinced that Locus just needed to be socialized a bit, and what better way to do that than inviting him to the wine and cheese hour? But no, the poor shy thing had just cloaked himself when Donut had brought it up, and Donut assumed it was because he’d issued the invitation before Locus was officially a Red, and that he hadn’t wanted to intrude. Only, even after the official statement from Sarge, claiming Locus as theirs, the big guy had kept playing hard to get.

And well, playing hard was fine and all, Donut didn’t mind, but honestly, it was starting to get slightly concerning.

“You don’t have to be such a tease about it, it’s okay to come inside,” he said now, and Tucker, who had briefly looked like he was losing his interest, now perked back up again. In contrast, Locus seemed to somehow manage to freeze further. Simmons spluttered, but that was nothing new.

“How many exits does your room have?” Grif asked. Caboose waved some more and pointed at him, but they all ignored it as Donut blinked, then thought it over. Ah. Right. Locus probably liked back doors. For possible escape routes! He let his eyes wander over the big guy, who by now looked so tense he might topple over if someone were to give him even a tiny push.

“I mean, there is the door, and then the vents? But he’s so _big_ , those might be too tight a hole for him. Unless he was really lubed up?” he thought out loud, and Simmons wheezed like he was dying. Grif just nodded lazily, like this was well expected.

“There you have it, then. You need a room like mine and Simmons’, we have a window.” To be fair, Donut was fairly certain Grif had claimed the room because it was closest to the kitchen. He also suspected it had originally been intended as something other than a bedroom, like an actual proper dining room, given how it was the only room big enough for two beds rather than only one. But, it was a small base, and they were a lot of people living together. The room had been seized for sleeping quarters, and it had gone without saying that Grif and Simmons would share it.

Donut wrinkled his nose delicately.

“We can’t have Donut’s wine and cheese hour in your room Grif, it’s too dirty! Honestly, I don’t know how you manage to eat out anything in there,” he protested, and Simmons shot straight up, his face which had steadily been growing more red now almost matching the armor he usually wore.

“ _He doesn’t!_ ” It was a high pitched squeak, and Tucker promptly doubled over cackling at Simmons’ words. Donut figured it was because they were such obvious lies - everyone knew Grif snacked in between meals. Caboose pointed at Simmons, then eagerly leaned forwards to stare at Tucker, his cheeks blown up as if he was holding his breath, lips sealed tightly together.

It was of little concern, of course. What mattered was that Grif had for once contributed without needing to be prompted or bribed to, and Donut thought over his words. So, what was needed was a rear entrance for Locus to use? Donut could provide that!

“Oh Locus, you could have just said! Don’t worry, Double-O Donut is on the case, I’m great at finding all the sweet spots!” Already, he was planning, because _obviously_ it couldn’t be somewhere the Blues could barge in and ruin everything. They could be so pushy, and Caboose, bless his big, _big_ heart, was like an overgrown puppy at times. He should not be let near any sort of alcohol.

“You know he left like, five minutes ago, right?” Tucker asked, and Donut whipped his head up to stare at the spot where Locus had previously seemed rooted. True to form, he was gone, and Donut sighed loudly, allowing himself a bit of dramatics when the world was so clearly against him. Caboose shot out of his seat, raising both arms towards the ceiling.

“Yes! I won! You guys are all very bad at this game, I am the best!” he declared, and Tucker picked up his magazine once more, reaching out to fondly pat his fellow teammate’s leg once when he thought no one would notice.

Caboose beamed. Donut beamed right back.

-

The thing was, changing positions didn’t help. Donut tried the garage, which was more or less Lopez’s domain, and by extension Red territory, but Locus didn’t show up. He teamed up with Sister to make it an outside picnic, but that ended with Grif yelling at her while she took the wine like shots, and Donut just couldn’t bear to watch that. Still no Locus. He tried Sarge’s room, which admittedly only had one door, but also had a very large hole in the wall. No one were clear on how _that_ had happened, but Sarge refused to get fixed because of the tactical advantage it was providing him with. Donut wasn’t sure what that advantage might be, other than letting Sarge get rained on when the weather was bad on their little moon, but he knew better than to ask.

He even tried laying claim to the shared living room one day, using no small amount of pleading, guilt tripping and just plain out bribery to get all of Blue team to leave the base for an hour. After that fiasco, he was left with a new debt of three packs of red hair dye for Carolina, a very forlorn looking Wash, and still no Locus to show for his efforts.

It was getting a tiny bit frustrating, and honestly, it was making Donut worry about his skincare routine. He wasn’t about to risk this giving him wrinkles or bags under his eyes! He was really making an effort here, but Locus wasn’t cooperating with him at all, and all this work with no release in sight made it all feel a bit one-sided, you know?

And then Donut realized what was clearly the solution to all his problems, and excitement got the better of him as he went to track down Locus. The big guy was being as sneaky as ever, but when Double-O Donut was on a mission, no one could escape him!

Also, he knew that Locus liked standing on the roof of their base. Donut supposed maybe he just liked being on top? He wasn’t one to judge about preferred positions, and simply headed there now, pleased as he spotted Locus where he’d known he’d find him.

Donut did take a brief moment to just admire Locus. It was so rare to see him with his helmet off, which was really a shame! Helmets did nothing good for your hair, after all, and Locus had such gorgeous hair. And facial features. And eyes. Said eyes were currently staring into the distance, not having spotted Donut yet, and Donut decided that sneaking up on someone that timid and jumpy was probably a bad idea. He waved his arms eagerly.

“We’ll do it in your room!” he declared, loudly, and those grey eyes immediately snapped to him, Locus’ face doing a very odd thing where it looked like it was trying to go slack and scrunch up all at once. It honestly looked hilarious, but Donut knew better than to laugh at such a shy guy.

“... What?” Locus seemed to gather himself enough to speak, sounding like he had to force just that one word out, and Donut _beamed_ at him, scrabbling onto the roof so he could join him by his side and link their arms together in what he himself thought was a brilliant tactical move. This way, Locus couldn’t possibly give him the slip and leave him unsatisfied! Those eyes remained glued to him, observing his every movement, and Donut wondered if perhaps Locus was so self-conscious about taking off his helmet because his face was this expressive.

It really _was_ a shame. Locus scars highlighted his high cheekbones and pale eyes _just right_ , and Donut had never been one to deny himself a bit of eye-candy. He wondered if Locus used any ointment for his scars, and if so, if he’d like to exchange recommendations, because Donut had yet to find one for his own facial scar which both smelled nice _and_ kept the scar tissue soft.

“Donut’s wine and cheese hour! We can have it in your room,” he explained, quite proud of this solution. For a moment, Locus’ eyes wavered, his thick eyebrows drawing down in the beginning of a frown - or, well, deepening the semi-permanent frown he seemed to always be wearing, much like a second helmet underneath the one from his armor. Donut briefly wondered what would be the nicest way to tell him that _none_ of those self-imposed masks really suited him.

“I don’t want that.” Locus said, his voice final and decisive, and Donut blinked, then rounded on him so he could see his face head-on.

“What? Why not?! You have a back entrance you use all the time, right?” The big guy _had_ to have, with how he was constantly sneaking about. A muscle under Locus’ eye twitched, his mouth tightening a bit even as the already dark skin over his cheeks deepened in hue. Oh no, was he ashamed of being so reserved? Shouldn’t Donut have mentioned it?

Apparently not, judging from the way Locus was moving his lips, or rather, the way he _wasn’t;_ he looked like he wanted to twitch them, but then caught himself in the act and forcibly stilled them. Really, he had the worst poker face _ever_ , maybe even as bad as Simmons, and right now, he was clearly somewhat flustered.

“Hey, it’s okay to be shy, don’t worry about it,” Donut assured him, reaching up with his free hand to awkwardly pat at Locus’ chestplate. It was cold and frankly a little unpleasant. Really, did he never remove his power armor? It felt like touching a _wall_ , there was absolutely no give to it, no indication that it was really just a plate placed over living flesh. Right now, it didn’t even look like Locus was breathing, and Donut experimentally pushed down a bit harder against the metal. Nothing, no give _at all_. “Ooh, firm”

His comment made Locus move again, exhaling a heavy breath through his nose, his eyes going a tiny bit wider. Then he closed them and turned his head away, which was really a shame, in Donut’s opinion. Still, he didn’t push the subject, figuring that if Locus was being skittish, he should afford him his space.

“... I am not going to participate in any wine or cheese,” he finally grit out, and honestly, what a let down that was. Here Donut had given him time and everything, and it was for Locus to say something like this? Disappointing! Pouting, Donut poked his chest once more, trying to make Locus look back at him. The big guy was stubbornly keeping his head turned, though.

“Why not?” Donut asked again, feeling like he was repeating himself since Locus couldn’t just give him any straight answers. And answers were the only thing Donut wanted straight! Locus’ face did the pinched thing again, where he looked like someone had suddenly shone a very bright light right into his eyes, his gaze glancing off of Donut and to the side. It took Donut a second to realize he was staring down at their linked arms, and he felt a moment of pride. _Such a smart tactical move!_

Sure, now that he was facing Locus rather than standing next to him, it did look slightly awkward, but Donut had never let that stop him before, and he wasn’t about to start now. He leaned in to nudge his shoulder against Locus’ - gently, because he was wearing a tank top while Locus was in full armor, and Donut didn’t want to bruise.

Locus eyes flicked again, this time to where Donut’s shoulder was touching his upper arm, and his frown deepened, revealing a confusion he was very clearly trying not to show.

“Why do you act like it matters that much to you?” he shot back, voice emotionless and vaguely defensive, sounding so unfriendly and dismissive that if it wasn’t for the expressions on his face, Donut might have thought him angry. As it was, it became very clear that Locus was uncertain, and that going on the offense was his way of reacting to that.

It made something soft bloom in Donut’s chest in response, a warm care for this very big and very deadly man, who he had thought was also very shy but who might actually just be very _stupid_. He acted like he thought being confused was a weakness, which it obviously wasn’t, and it was so obvious that he was trying to divert the attention from himself in the only way he knew how since he couldn't simply go invisible.

“Because! You’re a Red, and it’s a thing we Reds do! Of _course_ I want to include you, silly,” Donut explained, nudging Locus once more and smiling up at him as earnestly as he could manage. For a moment, Locus looked down at him, and as their gazes met Donut could swear he saw _something_ flit over Locus’ face. Then he glanced away, and the moment was very clearly broken.

“I don’t like many people in small spaces,” he rejected, but Donut hadn’t gotten this far to let something like that stop him. It was fine to be a bit nervous, Donut would take him in hand and handle him real good.

“Oh, that’s fine! We can start out being just the two of us. Maybe Grif, too? Although, you don’t want to know what he does with cheese, believe me,” Donut took a moment to theatrically shudder, pulling a small face before going back to smiling, “-but just him is a start. And then, if you feel comfortable with it, we can work our way up to inviting one other person? Or not, that’d be fine too. Not everyone is into having the whole gang together for one bang.”

As he had talked, Locus’ eyes had slowly returned to rest on him, almost reluctantly so. His brows were no longer drawn down in a frown, but rather an expression of confusion, his gaze roaming over Donut’s face as if looking for something. Donut had no clue what that might be, so he just gave his best encouraging grin, which in turn had Locus visibly grow more bewildered.

And then the big guy was looking away again, which would have been frustrating if not for the fact that this time, there was nothing dismissive about it. On the contrary, his face was slowly relaxing out of his constant pinched expression, revealing confusion and a soft expression which almost seemed cautiously vulnerable.

“... I am lactose intolerant,” he finally admitted, voice low and careful, like he thought he was handing Donut a loaded gun already pointed at him. Like he believed he was showing weakness. Donut blinked, then slapped his free hand against his cheek and making his best o-face.

“Oh! _Oh!_ Is _that_ why you never eat with us?” That would make _so much_ sense, because Grif was very fond of food with lots of heavy cream, or cheese, or both. The way Locus face twitched and his cheeks colored confirmed this, and Donut would have laughed in relief if it wasn’t because he was sure the big guy would misunderstand him if he did.

“Oh _Locus_ , I thought you were just being shy about your first time with us! Meals _can_ be intimidating when Grif starts fighting someone for their sloppy seconds. Oh no, I hope we haven’t made you feel unwelcome? I am _so_ sorry!” Donut glanced up at Locus in concern, and was met with a slightly perplexed expression. Clearly, whatever Locus had been expecting to come from his admission hadn’t happened, and he seemed completely and utterly at a loss on how to handle this.

Donut took it upon himself to smile for the both of them, hoping to encourage Locus to do the same. His mouth didn’t move, but there was a slight change in his eyes, a very brief wash of warmth which momentarily softened his pale gaze. Then he blinked, slowly and methodically, as if doing so carefully enough would allow him time to gather his thoughts.

“It’s… nothing to apologize for,” he ventured, something in his voice almost making it sound like a question, like he wasn’t sure why Donut had even said sorry in the first place, “I’m managing just fine,” Locus added, and Donut gave his arm a squeeze, hoping it could be felt through his armor. Clearly, it wasn’t acceptable to have someone from their team just ‘managing’, and Donut was taking it upon himself to change that, one step at a time! He let his smile grow soft and coaxing, the way his moms had looked at him when he needed encouragement, or at each other when someone said mean things about how two women couldn’t be a family.

“You know you can still come and just have wine with us if you’re thirsty, right? You don’t have to eat any cheese, and if you don’t want anyone to know about the lactose thing, you don’t have to tell them.” Donut kept his voice warm and reassuring, and he _knew_ he didn’t imagine the brief flash of gratitude in Locus’ eyes when he promised him he could keep his allergies to himself. What a poor, silly thing, acting ashamed of something he had no control over.

Donut could see that shame, now, under the grateful expression, slowly rising through confusion and shock. It kept growing, until it was the dominant feeling in Locus’ eyes, and the big guy visibly grit his teeth, jaw clenched in a stark contrast to the vulnerable feelings so clearly painted across his features.

“I… don’t trust myself with alcohol…” Locus’ voice was low and filled with shame as he made his confession, and once more, Donut was left to blink a few times to himself. Locus had for once not averted his gaze, instead watching him like a hawk, frown back in place as he seemed to focus entirely on observing and understanding Donut’s reaction. So what could Donut do, but smile at him?

Not a grin, or anything that might have showed enjoyment, because Locus was clearly believing he was revealing some vital flaw about himself, and Donut didn’t want to look like he was laughing at him, or finding this funny. He didn’t. It was a little bit tragic, actually, the shame clear in Locus’ face and body language, the way he was looking like he was expecting this to be used against him in some way. It made the booming warmth in Donut swell, and he carefully raised a hand to pat Locus’ chest, keeping his movements slow and soft.

“That’s your choice, and it’s _fine_. I hope you haven’t felt like I’ve disrespected your decision by insisting on Donut’s wine and cheese hour? I just wanted you to have some intercourse with the team!” Locus’ face did a twitchy thing again, and he looked like he needed a few moments to turn over those words in his head. Probably wasn’t used to being apologized to - he had already demonstrated that once, just earlier in this conversation. That was likely why he was getting flustered and looking so endearingly confused now. Donut let his smile grow encouraging.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about this, Locus, I will take care of everything!” Donut gave a final tap to Locus’ chest, then released his arm so he could give him a double thumbs up. There was absolutely no time to waste!

-

“What is _this?!_ ” Grif wailed, and Donut put on his best guileless grin.

“Our supplies,” he chirped, making his voice light and airy, a stark contrast to the dramatic heavy breathing Grif was doing. Or maybe he was just panting like that from having darted to the kitchen when said supplies arrived. He sure wasn’t allowed into the food, so it was a probability that he was out of breath because he’d run in here to grab a snack before anyone could stop him - one could never know with Grif.

One thing Donut _did_ know, and that was that his distraught complaint had attracted the attention of the entire base, and they slowly siddled into the kitchen. Or, most of them - Sister was outside trying to teach Caboose yoga, so she likely hadn’t heard her brother, and Lopez was stomping around somewhere in an attempt to make it clear just how disinterested he was.

Sarge was the first in, wearing an expectant look, though it soon fell once he spotted Grif in one piece and not bleeding out on the floor. Even Carolina peeked in, despite her having announced herself Neutral and not part of either Red or Blue. Sarge still insisted she was a Red because of her hair, while Tucker argued her armor clearly proved she was Blue. Funnily enough, whenever they started that fight, Carolina always made herself scarce. Donut thought that was very smart of her, to get away from that sausage party. Not that _he’d_ ever follow her example! If it came to a pounding, he was ready for it, and he was prepared to give as good as he got!

“These are _not_ supplies! What _is_ this?!” Grif was still howling as he repeated himself, now digging into the crate they got sent bi-weekly from Chorus. He held up a jug, shaking it in Donut’s face with such vigor that Donut honestly had no chance to see much of anything.

“Well, stop shaking your junk in my face so I can get a proper look at it, then! What are you doing in our supplies anyways, you’re not allowed near them,” Donut asked in a very clever act of misdirection, keeping his voice light and innocent. It worked like a charm, Sarge promptly perking up and cocking his shotgun.

“Insubordination!” he hollered, and Grif began slowly creeping around the large box until it was between him and Sarge.

“ _Siempre hace lo mismo (he always does that)_ ,” Lopez supplied in a monotone voice, passing by the kitchen, and Donut nodded along before planting both of his hands square on his hips, spreading his legs a bit to strike a pose.

“You’re right Lopez, that _is_ very naughty of him, and he _should_ be spanked!” he agreed, and Lopez made a mechanical sound from his throat that sounded like an exasperated groan, but which Donut was sure was meant to be voicing his agreement. Poor thing might have a malfunctioning voicebox again, heavens knew it happened often enough with Lopez’s penchant for getting decapitated. Only good thing coming from that mess was that with all this practice at putting Lopez back together, Sarge had to be a professional at giving head by now.

“That’s not what he said! And anyways, this isn’t about who is in the supplies, it’s about _what_ is in there! This! This is horrible!” Grif protested, speaking very quickly, as if to avoid having to translate Lopez’s words. Very obviously, that was because Grif didn’t want anyone to know what Lopez had said. Donut took that to mean he had been right, and beamed victoriously.

The grin quickly fell once Sarge looked into the crate. He quickly spun, pointing his shotgun from Grif to Wash, who - much to his credit - didn’t even flinch. Or maybe that was because it was still rather early in the day, and he hadn’t had any coffee yet; the bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual. Donut really wished Wash would just let him give him a facial, he had to take better care of himself!

Carolina briefly tensed, and from the corner of his eye, Donut could see Locus subtly shift his weight from where he was observing the scene, trying and failing to appear disinterested. They were both ready to jump in. Wash just blinked slowly, clearly more used to the simtroopers’ antics as he steadily met Sarge’s gaze.

“Now what is-” he didn’t get any further before Sarge interrupted him. Wash looked like this was very much expected, and also like he couldn’t muster the energy to care.

“Sabotage! Treachery! I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you dirty Blues! We invite you into our home-”

“Technically, it’s a shared base, so not really your home,” Tucker helpfully interjected. Sarge  raised his voice further, even though it really wasn’t necessary.

“- _into_ **_our_ ** _home_ , and this is how you thank us?! With a nefarious plot to poison us! To sabotage our very food! Only Blues would think of something so low, to ruin the very sustenance of a soldier! I knew it, you’ve betrayed us!” By that point, Sarge’s face had turned an impressive red hue from not having taken a single break in his yelling to breathe. It _was_ very impressive, how long he could use his mouth without needing air, but even he had his limits. Once he sucked in a breath, Wash placatingly held up both hands, managing to tame the annoyed twisting his lips had been doing.

“We really haven’t. Why don’t you tell me what the problem is, Sarge?” he asked, and Donut had to say, Wash had gotten better with his patience. Grif, finally seeming to decide that it was safe enough, poked his head over the edge of the crate. Somehow, said crate now mysteriously seemed to be one box of cereal down, and Grif had a few crumbs scattered around his mouth. Donut had no idea how he’d found the time to snack when a moment ago, Sarge had been about to shoot a load into him.

“This is! _Almond milk?_ Where is the regular milk? And the cream? And the cheez whiz!” Grif might be eating, but that sure didn’t stop him from loudly lamenting.

“Almonds don’t have teats, it is _clearly_ a Blue plot to poison us!” Sarge declared, jabbing Wash’s chest once with his shotgun. Carolina slowly blinked, then turned on her heel and left without a word, while Wash briefly narrowed his eyes before taking a series of deep breaths.

“Sarge, you’re forgetting that Blue team isn’t in charge of supplies. Remember? You wouldn’t allow it, for this exact reason. Your team is the one letting Chorus know what we need for the coming weeks,” he said, and Donut decided he should probably de-escalate the situation. It _was_ true, Sarge hadn’t wanted Blue team to be the ones in control of supplies. It would give them too much power, he’d said, would go right to their blue heads and fill them with ideas of false superiority.

Thing was, not everyone on Red team could be trusted with supplies, either. Grif couldn’t, for the same reason he wasn’t allowed near them when they were received. Simmons was excluded simply because everyone knew Grif would bully him into ordering whatever he wanted. Lopez couldn’t speak English, which was clearly why when they had tried giving him the responsibility, he hadn’t ordered _anything_. Poor thing had obviously gotten confused, he must have felt so bad that they hadn’t had any food! And Sarge, well- he just ordered various mechanical parts, and shells for his shotgun. Which really only left…

“Oh, I ordered this!” Donut lilted, happily taking the jug of almond milk from Grif and very pointedly _not_ looking towards Locus. “I’m putting us all on a diet, and eating lactose free is so much better for everyone!”

“Not for _me!_ ” Grif cried, but everyone more or less ignored him by now. Except maybe Simmons, but he had been keeping a distance since Sarge had been threatening to shoot Grif. Probably so he could avoid being put in a situation where he’d have to side with one of them against the other. Instead, everyone turned to look at Donut, and he made a conscious effort to pretend he wasn’t noticing it.

“ _Donut_ is trying to poison us?” Sarge muttered, pointing his shotgun towards the ceiling in clear indecision. Donut gave the short laugh he had perfected for when he wanted men to think he found their jokes hilarious, the sound chiming and sweet.

“Oh, no, Sarge, it’s not poison, it’s very healthy and will make us better soldiers. Look, it’s just like regular milk!,” he assured, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it from the jug. And then, because it was impossible not to, Donut sneaked a glance towards Locus, being very careful to make it seem like he was just looking around the room. It wouldn’t do to put the shy thing on the spot like that.

But oh, that one brief look made this all worth it. Locus looked like he had fallen from the sky, his face slack in surprise, his eyes wide. Those eyes were fixed on Donut, and in them he could read a million questions and thoughts, flitting by so fast he doubted even Locus were aware of all of them. There was something so vulnerable about this surprise that Donut became very happy everyone were looking at him and not Locus, because he doubted the big guy would have liked anyone else seeing him this exposed.

It made Donut’s gleaming smile turn genuine, growing even wider than before.

“You…” Wash began, then sighed, and Donut looked away from Locus, feeling more than ready to tackle this now. He already knew that he had won Sarge over, with the lie about a diet and the promise that it would make them better soldiers. And with Sarge on his side, the rest of Red team would have no choice but to accept their fate. So that really just left Blue team to deal with. Donut waited patiently as Wash pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed it, then sighed again.

“Look, Donut, it’s very… thoughtful?... of you to want us all to be healthy. But don’t you think you should maybe have consulted with us before doing a complete change in all our diets like this?” he asked, ignoring Grif as he yelled encouragements from the sideline. Donut put on his best innocent face, tilting his head a bit and widening his eyes as he blinked.

“Oh, when you put it like that, I can see your point Wash. I’m sorry, I just got so excited, I got carried away! But it’s very important to forgive and forget, right?” Hook, line, and sinker. Donut already knew how Wash would react before the former freelancer even took in his words, and honestly, things couldn’t have played out better.

As predicted, Wash looked like he was suppressing the urge to flinch, eyes fogging over as he no doubt recalled the time he had shot Donut. And, well. Donut did feel a little bad about using that guilt against him, but Wash _had_ been trying to kill him. You were allowed to use your own attempted murder to get things your way every once in a while, right?

“Wash?” Donut gently prodded, and Wash snapped back, his eyes flicking up from where they had guiltily been staring holes into Donut’s chest, right where the shot had left another hole, back then. He blinked, then rubbed his neck, averting his gaze to instead look at Tucker’s feet like they were the most interesting thing in the entire world

“Well, yes, it- forgiveness is very important, and your intentions were… I mean...” he muttered, and Tucker, bless him, stepped up to clasp a hand on Wash’s shoulder and change the subject.

“So, it tastes just like milk?” he asked, eyeing the glass Donut had previously poured, and Donut blinked, then followed suit. He could almost feel the attention of the room shift, focussing on the unassuming glass of white liquid, all of them regarding it with something close to trepidation. It was just a glass of milk, sure, but it was _strange_ milk, and none of  them really wanted to be the first to drink it. It felt silly, to be weary of something so innocent, and Donut tried to reassure everyone, himself included.

“Well, I mean, I would assume it’s maybe salty?” he said, smiling for all he was worth to cover up the fact that he was unsure.

“I bet it tastes like crap, healthy stuff  is never any good. It’s gonna be super nasty, and probably make all of us sick, and obviously not as good as proper cream. It’s shit,” Grif complained, seemingly taking this chance of indecision to voice his opinion. Maybe he thought that with everyone hesitant, he could sway the room to his favor. Maybe it might even have worked - Simmons sure looked doubtful, and Sarge was squinting suspiciously and fingering his shotgun, like he was considering shooting the glass.

It never got that far, because then there was movement by Donut’s side, and he turned his head in surprise to see that Locus had finally stopped lingering in the doorway, and had entered the kitchen. Which was good! Donut was happy that Locus was joining in on their little congress, but he was also very confused as to _why_ he was doing so. Sure, this was all for his sake so he wouldn’t feel so lonely, but no one here knew about his lactose intolerance other than Donut. And Donut had carefully avoided revealing that, instead making up a lie about a diet, so Locus didn’t _need_ to get involved. Donut was handling this, and he was going to see it to completion no matter what!

Locus kept his eyes on him now, though, which made something in Donut’s guts flutter like an overly excited butterfly. It was just _nice_ , because Locus gaze was normally withdrawn, but right now it was completely present in the moment, the intensity in it all focussed on Donut. It honestly made him feel just a tiny bit breathless. Warm fingers brushed his for the briefest of moments, and before Donut knew what had happened, Locus had taken the glass from him. Placed it to his mouth and knocked back half of it, like he was taking a shot, before placing the now half filled glass on the kitchen table with a _thunk_ , something final in that sound.

“It’s _fine_ ,” he said, and Donut wondered if his voice had always had such a distinct rumble to it, or if it was just audible now because the rest of the room was so silent. It was doing _things_ to the butterfly in his stomach, making it multiply, and Donut was actually grateful Locus was no longer looking at him. Instead, his pale gaze had shifted to Grif, unwavering and determined.

Grif blinked, seemingly even more shocked than the rest of the room, before a curious thing happened. He stopped narrowing his eyes angrily, his shoulders slumped down from where they had been defensively raised to his ears, his entire body appeared to relax out of a tense stance. He was visibly mellowing out, and _letting go of an argument_ , and Donut had never thought he’d see the day that happened. Neither had anyone else, if the impressed sound Tucker made in the back of his throat was anything to go by.

“Smart move,” he remarked under his breath, and Donut had to agree with him. Locus vouching for this was probably the only thing that could ever have stopped Grif from having already decided he outright hated something. He might even give it a proper chance now, perhaps even stop complaining! Donut realized the opportunity he was being given, and immediately took the advantage and ran with it.

“Really smart. Maybe he could eat with us, if he wants to. To keep Grif from complaining before even tasting the food, I mean. Might be a good idea, for Grif’s sake,” Donut remarked, hardly noticing that Tucker was nodding in agreement. He was too distracted by the look Locus was sending him from the corner of his eyes - it was baffled, but also contained a glimmer of humor that was… Well.

Donut thought it might be addicting, because he sure wanted it to stay forever. It was very clear that Locus was seeing through his little plot; using Grif as an excuse, so no one would wonder why Locus was suddenly eating with them when he hadn’t before. It would let Locus keep his secrets, would shift the attention to Grif so Locus could have his privacy.

Even Grif seemed to let go of the last of his reluctance when faced with that prospect, huffing out a great portion of air and letting himself flop into a kitchen chair. He was still pouting, of course, but it seemed to be mostly for show, like when he was given work he knew he couldn’t get around doing. Locus’ appearance had visibly calmed and pleased him.

“Well, I still think it’s shitty, but food is food I guess. There’s just some things you can’t replace, and cheese is one of them. Like, a real good mac’n’cheese, nothing tops that,” he said, though there was nothing argumentative about his tone. If anything, it was closer to a huff, Grif having accepted his fate but not wanting to face it without at least giving it his usual level of complaining. Locus made a small neutral noise, giving Grif the acknowledgement he craved without actually agreeing to his words. He picked up the glass again to sip from it in what seemed to be a carefully calculated move to pacify Grif, and Donut _beamed_ when he could almost physically feel the situation resolve itself.

Everything had worked out _perfectly_ , like a true Double-O Donut ploy: Locus could eat with them if he wanted and still keep his secret. It wasn’t quite getting him to join in on wine and cheese hours, but it was a good place to start. Donut felt incredibly proud of himself, finding it impossible to keep from grinning.

“So, Locus, how do you like my nut milk?” he asked. Locus made a choking sound and sprayed the almond milk he’d been drinking through his nose.

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday present for the amazing Gemi, who came up with this rarepair and suffers from lack of content. It was fun trying my hands at a completely different fandom, this is my first RVB fic! I do apologize about the one Spanish sentence, it's translated from the web, I don't speak a lick of Spanish, so if it's wrong, I'm sorry.  
> Also, don’t think too much about it being part of a series, that was just to give myself the opportunity to continue it. I’m currently pressed for time, but I also feel like there is definitely more story to this, so we will see!


End file.
